A Bomber pilot's experiences

106 Squadron

9th November 1943 RAF Syerston Notts.

Stand down today so final preparations are made for our move tomorrow to RAF Metheringham (RAF where?) in the wilds of Lincolnshire.

We had joined the Squadron in June. My crew Les Blood, F/E, John Boaden, Nav, Dick Toogood,B/A, Doug Cunnison, Wop/AG, Eddie ‘Taff’ Davies, Mid Upper Gunner and Dennis ‘Shorty’ Groombridge, R/G.

‘Twas not long before we had ‘own’ aircraft. Firstly ZN-T ‘Admiral’ Dumbo (the flying elephant and it was!) then a new ZN-Z ‘Admiral Shyte-Awk2. Why the ‘Admiral’ prefix? At that time106 was still the 5 Group designated ship attack Squadron and we had two Fleet Air Arm Observer Lieutenants attached to us. Every time we bombed a port they came along to identify what German naval ships were there. (Bloody RAF don’t know their bows from their sterns).

By November we were two-thirds through our first tour. We’d visited a variety of targets — the Ruhr (hotly defended); three trips to Italy (where the weather en route was more hazardous than the defences!) and a variety of selected targets throughout Germany.

We were attacked by a Ju 88 over Nuremburg which ‘Shorty’ shot down and by a Me210 over Kassel which was damaged by ‘Shorty’ and ‘Taff’.

We’d had our moments, of course, but our Lancaster flew as well on three as on four engines (bit slower though) and on one occasion coped well on two (bit lower as well as slower still!!)

But now it was ‘so long’ peace-time Station Syerston. Adieu Nottingham — ‘Airborne Nag;, ‘Barley Mow’ and all. No more the enterprising restaurant where first class steak or enormous Dover sole was regularly available — when the authorities weren’t closing it down — which was quite often!

Leaving there one night with Les Blood and heading for the bus station I realised that he was no longer beside me. (Full black-out still in force and his night vision not of the best) I said “Bloody where are you?” Whereupon a no. 8 torch shone on me and an old lady’s voice said “Young man, I can see by your uniform that you are doing a good job, but do you have to use such language?” I tried to explain but we had a bus to catch!

Farewell escarpment to the River Trent that save ‘Ginger’ Crowe’s life when he lost his port outer engine on take-off. He disappeared over the edge, gathered speed and by first class flying and airmanship he brought his fully laden Lancaster around to make a perfect three engined landing.

Said escarpment did its life saving act for a F/O Scott, 61 Sqdn who, returning from ops, stalled on the approach, slid down the slope and finished up in the Trent, nose gently embedded in the far bank! The crew climbed out, barely got their feet wet and were entertained by the farmer and his wife whilst waiting for the ‘gharry’ from Syerston to collect them!

But enough memories. It’s party time tonight in the Mess ‘cause we’re only flying to Metheringham tomorrow afternoon.

10th November RAF Syerston 10.30 hrs.

My slumber is disturbed by my batman who insists on telling me that I’m required in the briefing room as I’m on ops. I invite him to go away as there aren’t any ops today — we’re going to Metheringham. He is very persistent and finally convinces me that there may be some truth in his message.

He was right. Higher authority required us to attack the Mont Cenis tunnel at Modane and render it useless for supplies to the German troops in N Italy.

Sooooo — instead of a gentle hop to our new home it’s a full load, full moon, gin clear. We cross France at 7000 feet, find the valley, ignore the puny flak (which rapidly ceased under the weight of the bombs) and make our way home. Piece of cake.

11th November RAF Syerston — early pm

We really are moving. My faithful ZN-Z fully laden — this time with bodies (air and ground crew plus a couple of hitch-hikers) suitcases, kitbags, bicycles and various impedimentia stashed in the fuselage. Chocks away — and so are we.

Two friends of mine, Johnny Forsyth and Colin Storer were to formate on me and we proposed to announce our arrival with a gentle ‘beat-up’. Metheringham R/T call sign was ‘Coffee-stall’, so we intended also to broadcast a rendering (literally!) of the ‘Java Jive’. The new Station Commander was not amused — and said so!

Directions were given by Flying Control to reach our dispersal and we warily made our way around the perimeter track taking great care not to go off the edge — liquid mud awaited anyone who put a wheel off the tarmac!

Then to our billets — nissen huts, coke stoves, no hot water — but plenty of mud.

Unpack, clean up then to the mess for dinner — a quarter of a mile away. It was raining when we walked up and still raining when we returned, and the coke stove had gone out! -Ce la guerre.

Next day the Squadron and Station started ‘working up’. We did an hour’s local flying, checking new landmarks, noting our proximity to Coningsby, Woodhall Spa, Bardney and Waddington.

Whilst 106 Sqdn had moved as a whole, the Administrative Staff were from other Stations and it would take a little while for the varying disciplines to ‘gel’ and become a cohesive unit.

Our new Station Commander decided to inspect the airfield, the ground crew Flight Offices and the aircraft. Remember that the aircraft ‘names’ were prefixed “Admiral” and all Senior Officers had ‘scrambled egg’ on the peaks of their caps. My ‘Admiral Shyte-Awk’ was no exception. The ‘Groupie’ as a Senior Officer took umbrage at the crest and ordered my ground to remove it. As soon as he had moved on my Sgt i/c rang me for help. I reminded him that he should obey his last order — and then ordered him to leave it on. (A P/O countermanding a GC!). I hastened to my Squadron CO and what he later said to the Station Commander I don’t know — but my crest stayed intact.

Flying continued: ammunition, bombs and fuel stocked up and then we were ready to go on November 18th. I was told that I was not flying that night, but a brand new Lancaster was at Waddington awaiting collection. I could ‘take a day off’ and collect same. Taking Les and Doug, we duly arrived at ‘Waddo’ and it then being lunchtime arranged to pick up the aircraft in the afternoon.

I had barely started my meal when I was called to the phone and my Flight Commander informed me that the aircraft was no required for ops that night and that I was to fly it. I protested that if I was on ops I wanted my own ‘Z’. To no avail. I could do the NFT (night flying test) on the way back and be quick about it!

The new aircraft proved a success — we bombed Berlin from 25000 ft (the higher the fewer) and came back at 27500 ft.

‘Miff (P/O Mifflin — his F/E Norman Jackson later won the VC) who had taken ‘Z’ that night had the pilot’s side window blown out. He said that it was a bit chilly!

A ‘flu epidemic hit the Station and the Squadron was forced to operate with ‘scratch’ crews and whenever possible crew replacements were made with members of comparable experience. Whilst I was laid low, F/O Jack Hoboken, a Dutch pilot, needed two gunners so in his rear turret was Squadron Gunnery Leader and ‘Taff’ Davies in the mid-upper. Unfortunately there were shot down near Munich and all killed. In view of the experience of the two gunners I am convinced that it was flak that got hem and not fighters.

Squadron efficiency quickly returned to normal — first class. The weather didn’t! The airfield was still being completed. Going in to the briefing room one rare sunny afternoon, the window was open. We were amazed (and shaken) when three Irish workmen looked through the window and commented on ‘them pretty red ribbons on that map’!! They led straight to Berlin! We were not sorry when Command ‘scrubbed’ the op later in the day.

Conditions improved. We got hot water so could shave and shower in comfort. We learned how to manage the coke stove.

Forays were made to Martin and Metheringham where the good folk were coming to terms with the influx of bodies and the ‘roar of the mighty Merlins’.

The next two months passed quickly and we finished our tour.

Next item on the agenda — a tour as an instructor. Where?

Some of my crew went to OTU’s (Operational Training Units) at Bruntingthorpe and Silverstone. Les and I were posted to Syerston, by now the home of 5LFS (5 Group Lancaster Finishing School). Needless to say we were delighted to continue to fly Lancasters and to return to Syerston and ‘ops on Notts’!

We weren’t finished with 106 and Metheringham though. A year later I put together my second tour crew. Les Blood, Doug Cunnison and ‘Shorty’ Groombridge said that they’d come back along with ‘Dixie’ Dean (Nav), Pete Lynch (B/A) and ‘Sandy’ Sanford (MU). All second tour and all commissioned. What a team!

We returned to Metheringham at the end of March 1945 and what a transformation. No mud, a lot of activities and we would not be needing the coke stove much longer!

We only managed three ops on our second tour (including our one and only daylight) when VE was upon us.

I applied for a posting to Transport command to fly Avro Yorks — to be refused on the grounds that my crew were earmarked for ‘Tiger Force’ the code name for the twelve Squadrons who would go to the Far East and bomb Japan!

Training stated for the new venture — formation flying, new navigation aids, Radio Range flying, fighter affiliation exercises. Then on leave in early August when the news of the ‘A; bomb came through and by the time we got back to base ‘Tiger Force’ had been cancelled — to everyone’s relief.

My CO said that he had resubmitted my application for Transport Command and in the early October it came through.

Meantime we did some trips to Italy bringing troops home on the ‘Python’ scheme. ‘Cooks Tours’ were arranged in order to let all personnel see the damage caused by the bombing. We flew at 3000 ft around the Ruhr — Cologne, Essen, Bochum, Wuppertal, Gelsenkirchen, Dusselorfe etc. and the devastation was appalling.

Time then to say ‘Farewell’ to 106 RAF Metheringham and Martin, this time tinged with sadness and a host of memories of which, as time goes by, the good and happy ones push the less pleasant to the dim confines at the back of the min

Thank you 106, it’s been a pleasure to serve with you.

And so to Yorks, but that’s another story.

W R P Perry DFC

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